


arthur/lancelot 1

by romanticalgirl



Series: December Ficlets 2007 [13]
Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 12-3-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	arthur/lancelot 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 12-3-07

“What has gotten into you?” Arthur slams Lancelot back against the tree, taking great pleasure in the man’s grunt. “Have you gone mad?”

“What?” Lancelot’s sneer is laced with blood, his lips dark with it. Arthur reaches up to wipe it away, his eyes seeking out fresh blood in its wake. Lancelot’s eyes follow Arthur’s hand, licking his lips at the sight of Arthur’s thumb wet with blood. 

“You could have been killed.”

“Making today no different than any other.” He pushes at Arthur, grunting again as Arthur shoves him back, refusing to allow him to move away. 

“That Woad was behind you, his sword at your neck.”

“And now he is dead on the ground with my sword having sliced his. What is the problem, Arthur?”

Arthur swallows hard, his eyes flashing fire. “You could have died.”

“But did not.” Lancelot shoves against him again, sending Arthur back several steps. The rest of the knights have ridden back to the wall, no doubt spurred on by Tristan’s ever-knowing glance. “I am a knight, pressed into service of the Roman Empire. My job, Arthur, is to kill or be killed. I have done one and not the other today, and I do not know what more you can possible ask of me.”

“You could have died.”

“So you have said,” Lancelot snaps. “What is your point?”

Arthur grabs him, his hand tight against the nape of Lancelot’s neck, his fingers digging into the base of Lancelot’s skull. “You will not die.”

“Did you hear that from your God?” He sneers again, distaste and disgust lacing every word. His body is corded tight, refusing to relax into Arthur’s grip. “Am I your reward for your faith?”

“You are against my faith,” Arthur growls, anger and frustration and fear boiling inside him, filling his voice. “Against everything I believe in.” 

“Then let me go. Let me die.” Lancelot spits the words out from between clenched teeth, rearing his head back and then slamming it hard into Arthur’s. Arthur stumbles back, falling to the ground. He reaches out and catches Lancelot, pulling him down with him, on top of him.

Blood lines Arthur’s lips as he shakes his head, rolling them over so Lancelot is beneath him, pinned there in the mud and blood and rain. “No. You are against my faith, Lancelot.” He kisses him, hard and angry and hot, pulling away only to catch a gasping breath. “But without you, I have no faith.”


End file.
